


I Wanna Save That Light

by Gadhar



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, soul crushing distance is where they're at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own one bloody fucking thing except the mind that came up with these blasted porny words.
> 
> This is the product of two things. One was a comment I got, way, way, back, about Barney watching gay porn and I started like three separate things about it. 2 fluffy, one angst, and of course, the fucking angst was the only thing that went anywhere. The second was this:  
> \--when lee chases him onto the street and jerk him back around, furious   
> Adaptation of:   
> "I'm going to *ignore* you. say what you want, yell, shout, throw a punch. I'll be right behind you, ignoring every word. follow you home if I think you'll try to sneak away. punch you right back--
> 
> Title comes from lyrics to Demons by Imagine Dragons. Which to me is Barney on a fucking guilt-trip. Like seriously. I'm pretty sure the song isn't about that though.
> 
> So, yeah. I'm ballparking the chapters, I have to tweak a few things. They are varying lengths and porn. Just. Porn. I have never written anything this centered on porn. Or maybe I have I don't know. But just. Porn. I have conflicted feelings about this thing. 
> 
> Blasted fucking angsty porn.

On the screen they're already fucking. Long slow thrusts that have Barney's eyes blown wide and his breath all sharp exhales and barely there inhales.

He can feel his hand, smooth and rough in different places, the callouses raised to mark how he holds his gun. He wonders how hands calloused from a knife would feel.

He's not much for porn if he's honest. 

It's not that it doesn't get him horny. Good porn gets everybody horny. It's just, it looks so fake sometimes. Even the ones meant to be nothing more than a real thorough fucking. Most of the time though, Barney finds himself wondering what the stars are thinking as they do their thing that he sort of forgets about trying to get off.

You wouldn't think it possible but he's always defied logic. And bodily needs and hormones.

Tonight though, he's so fucking stressed out that he can't focus. He's got the video playing on his phone, earbuds in with the volume high.

The hand around his cock moves faster, rough and jerking. The way he knows gets it done. His head hits the pillow, hand dropping the phone in favor of gripping the blankets and the earbuds go with them.

He pants, his lips dry as he wets them with a tongue before clamping down on his lip, his hand losing it's rhythm as he just thrusts up, heat spreading over his limbs.

He jerks up, whole body, and comes, a strangled growl coming out of his throat and it's through the brief haze before his eyes white out he thinks he sees Lee.

Hears Lee.

But then the image is gone as he falls back, breathing heavily and wishing it really was Lee.

–––––––––-

The next time he finds himself doing it, it doesn't work.

The noises of two men panting high and hard in his ear as they go at it on the screen, though getting him extremely hot and horny, does not get him off.

All he can think about is Lee and how much he wants him here. Not just in the room or close by as a friend, but together, wrapped up in each other.

There's something soul crushing about the distance he forces between himself and Lee. Their friendship is something he treasures above all else, maybe more than he should but he can't bear to lose it, he knows that. And the urge to confess to unrequited feelings is not a worthy reason of risking that friendship. That'd be like putting a gun to his head, when he would hear Lee say no.

So, soul crushing distance is where they're at.

Barney tosses the phone away, curls under the blankets and tries to think about anything other than Lee. Lee's voice, Lee's hands, Lee's eyes, Lee's laughter, Lee's smiles, Lee's skin—it's all rolling around in his head. It doesn't help much in the way of sleeping, and certainly not getting rid of the fucking hard-on he has either.

Barney eventually crawls out of bed, heading for a cold shower and an even colder loneliness, once again locking up all the thoughts he dare not think at any other time.


	2. Chapter 2

There's this...stabbing... _pain,_ in his heart. It feels too much like a knife. And all he sees are the bruises across Lee's chest from the chains, the cuts on his hands and face from a fight, and the bullet graze across his neck.

_Lucky._

That's all he can think. Lucky. Over and over and he still isn't sure if it's Lee or him who's luckier that Lee survived.

And along with that pain there's this...relief. It washes over him and dulls the pain, curls around the ache in his heart and though it doesn't rid him of it, the relief insulates him somewhat, keeps the pain caged. It's enough to keep him from deciding to blow up the entirety of fucking Bosnia in revenge.

Even with the assurance that Lee is alive and breathing having been right under his fingers as he taped up Lee's ribs, Barney can't help but steal even more glances. Maybe he's even fucking _staring,_ he doesn't know. But every time he looks away he feels like Lee might slip away, just disappear right from his seat on the plane or something.

Poof.

It's ridiculous but he can't shake the feeling.

When did he become so fucked up? He's so focused on Lee he's not even fully focused on the _missions_ anymore. And it's all for nothing, useless pining and wishful thinking because Lee wouldn't and shouldn't bother with him.

But he can't _stop._ It's like fucking breathing—staring at Lee, talking to Lee, thinking about Lee.

He's still looking, fingers itching at his sides to reach out, across the massive space between them and pull him close, as he sits there, well on his way to the sandman's land.

And Lee catches his eyes, for only a moment. But it's long enough for Barney to feel an intense pang of guilt, of fear.

He's been found out.

––––––––-

The moment they touch base at the hangar Lee damn near runs for the shower. Anything to get away from Barney, from those fucking dark eyes that feel like they're boring into him, seeing everything.

It's a vulnerability he's not sure he can handle. Not when there's no one at his back.

Lee strips off his clothes and turns on the water, makes it burning hot. Like he can burn away the feel of Barney's eyes raking over him like hands. Maybe he can even burn away the feeling of Barney's _actual_ hands on him from earlier.

And that's an added pain, taking the tape off his ribs, but it gives him something else to focus on.

Every time he looked for Barney today he always found the man staring right back at him, intently. Lee still can't read the looks, what they mean. It feels like concern, and after the utter fiasco the mission turned out to be, he can understand the concern. But it doesn't help that he wants those glances and stares to mean so much more than they do.

Even now, years later, he can remember the exact moment things changed. When what he wanted from Barney, wanted in _life,_ changed.

If anything, the years have only fired up his needs more, rather than cool them down like he hoped. The emotional distance he's tried to put between him and everyone on the team hasn't really done much more than make him feel even lonelier, puttering about like an old fool with no purpose in between missions.

It damn near hurts how useless he feels at those times, how angry and frustrated, and _alone._

And it's those times that always serve to drag him down even deeper into this pit of desire for things he can't have. It's those times that Barney slips into his mind, a ghost of a thought that clings to everything like the smoke from his cigars.

Lee drags a soapy hand down his chest, winces at the feeling of burning cuts and abused bruises but keeps on going, scrubbing roughly in an effort to get the feeling of hands off him. The enemies hands. Barney's hands. The sucking feeling of just _hands,_ dragging him down.

And part of him wishes he could stand the feel of Barney's hands. Know that feel and know it would always be there, if he wanted it.

Lee slams his eyes shut over the images that brings up, of the one moment he knows he should regret but doesn't.

He still can't believe it, even now, that he saw...saw Barney unravel and give himself over to passion.

Granted he left before he could see it all, he managed to tear himself away early enough but it hadn't changed anything. He had walked in on Barney _getting off._ It was an intensely...private moment, that he committed greedily to memory. And as much as Lee will hold on to that forever, as a stupid flight of fancy that he hopes he may one day be a part of, he still feels guilt rotting around in his stomach.

Barney would turn him away just for that, intruding on that moment of vulnerability.

Lee tries to blink away the thoughts with the water, scrubbing down his thigh. But it's pointless, all he can feel is what he thinks Barney's hands may feel like and...fuck, he's already hard.

He's fucking pathetic is what he is.

Lee takes himself in his hand, leaning against the wall.

He intends to keep it short, quick jerks just to get him off so he can wash the shame away. But Barney sneaks into his mind again, his thoughts, and soon Lee's thinking of Barney's hands on him, fingers running up his sides as they take care to avoid injuries. Because he knows Barney would be like that, careful, considerate, to the point it'd be irritating.

He thinks about Barney's lips on his, tongues sliding together as Barney's hand grips his cock, a tight, warm circle. He can nearly hear Barney's voice in his head, the grunts and pants and any other ungodly sounds he might be able to illicit from the tight-lipped man.

Lee moans at the feeling, he can feel the heat curling in his stomach, the tightness of his balls, and the faster he strokes the clearer the images in his head become. Soon all he sees is Barney's face, eyes closed with his mouth open, the sliver of a pink tongue darting over red lips as his hand works his own cock hard and fast.

Lee changes his own pace to match the one Barney had going when Lee walked in on him. And he holds on to the thoughts, the feelings of Barney and what it'd be like to be able to break Barney down like that. To be the one responsible for him losing it.

Lee bites his lip to keep silent, stilling with a sudden jerk as he comes, the imagined sound that Barney might make in his head.

When he opens his eyes Lee stares down at his hand, watching the water rinse all those feelings and thoughts away.

Lee clenches his jaw, teeth grinding together as he leans against the tiled wall, sliding to the floor.

He's so fucking hopeless.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest Tool bit I have ever written *smiles to self*

Lee can't sleep. Or rather, he doesn't particularly _want_ to. He probably should, he's had a rough couple of days, but he can't imagine sleep really helping any. He'd either be greeted by nightmares or dreams of Barney. One would leave him tossing and turning, physically exhausted and stuck in his mind, and the other would leave him waking up with the same shame and guilt, only heavier, and that's more emotional exhaustion than he can possibly handle right now.

Instead he moves around the apartment, tidying things up, washing dishes, dusting. Stupid little things to occupy his mind, put it on autopilot. And after an hour or two of that he picks up his pen and notebook, sits at the window and stares out at the night.

He's grateful his mind never slips from the blankness he can sometimes get from menial tasks, even if nothing appears on his paper. But eventually he grows tired of that and he can feel his eyelids pulling close, body shutting down.

So he gets up and grabs his keys, heading out.

The bike revitalizes him for a bit, the wind burning his face somewhat like an ice bath. He has no destination in mind, just a goal of roaming, but somehow, he ends up turning towards Tool's place.

Lee sits and stares at the door, debating whether or not he should just turn away, drive back to his place. The shop's closed up, the bar too, and he imagines Tool is sleeping. But he came here for a reason, right? Even if he doesn't know what it is he turned this way for something.

And knowing it's fully possible he may just end up staring at a wall in Tool's place rather than a wall at home, Lee gets off his bike and goes inside.

He's probably lucky the door's unlocked, or maybe unlucky, he's not sure yet. Heading inside though, he passes right through the main room, heads for the rooms in the back where he knows Tool keeps the good shit.

And that's where he finds Tool, wide awake and drawing, face held in an expression of perfect concentration.

Lee hasn't stepped into the room yet, not really, and Tool definitely hasn't heard him, so he turns away, intent on leaving Tool alone to whatever it is he's doing.

"Gonna leave without a word, eh Christmas?"

Lee shakes his head, doesn't matter if he's quiet as a fucking mouse, Tool sees everything. "Sorry, I didn't mean to– I’m just gonna go."

"Sit down." Tool pats the seat of the sofa set up behind him.

And Lee, unsure whether it's his own lack of thoughts on what to do or the gruff demand of Tool's voice that has him sitting down, takes a moment to just stare at what Tool's sketching, taking it in.

That's what they do for the next half hour or so, and Lee finds himself so wrapped up in Tool's work—following the flowing lines of the curved blades that cut through the flowers and the thin loops of the script below—that he's being lulled into that darkness of sleep.

And he's nearly there, caught in that state right before going into to full unconscious sleep when Tool speaks again, his voice still soft and low. "Why aren't you in a bed sleeping, my friend?"

"Not tired," Lee mumbles, scrubbing a hand down his face and avoiding the clearly disbelieving look Tool gives him. "Much," He amends. "I'm not tired, much."

Tool hums, setting down his pen after he inks the last blade-edge, turning towards Lee. "Way I heard it, you had it pretty rough today."

Lee stares at something over Tool's shoulder, nothing in particular really, he's just hoping that avoiding Tool will get him somewhere. Somewhere he doesn't have to talk, preferably.

But everyone talks around Tool. There's this unexplainable... _thing,_ about the man that would have even the most tight-lipped prick blathering on.

"Wouldn't say that. Gunner got a bullet to the shoulder."

"Flesh wound."

"Yeah, but..."

"I heard it was the bad guys who had _you._ That your fault or were they just extra sneaky this time around?"

"My fault. I went alone, traded myself for a hostage. They weren't very nice people, my hosts."

Tool laughs, just an exhale of a breath really, and he grabs his pipe from somewhere near. "Better you than the hostage right?"

"Yeah."

They slip into a silence again and sure enough, Lee's eyes eventually end up meeting Tool's. And now that he’s there, captured by Tool's soft and... _encouraging,_ gaze, Lee knows he won't be able to look away.

Suddenly he just wants to talk. About everything. About how hard he’s fallen for Barney, about how fucking stupid he is for doing so, pathetic for hoping for something he already knows he can't have. He wants to talk about that strange look Barney gave him on the plane and all the times he's stolen a glance just for it to end up nowhere. He wants to lay it all out and have Tool agree with him, call him a fucking idiot and let him get shitfaced on some whiskey so he can go back to pretending that there's nothing wrong tomorrow. No matter how much it tears him up inside.

"Tool..."

"You know how they say things aren't real until they're said out loud?" Tool talks over him, drowns whatever Lee was going to say in one of his signature weird-ass questions.

"Uh...maybe?"

"Heh, well, they do. Or something like it at least. As if you can just keep everything locked up inside ya and it won't matter."

Lee nods, he can only hope that's true. Maybe he just has to hang on a little longer, hold it all back for just a little longer and it'll stop being a problem.

" _It's a goddamn lie._ "

Lee flinches at the venom in Tool's voice, the pure disgust. He's never really heard Tool get worked up about anything, ever, certainly not something brought up in casual conversation

"Holding shit inside, it just eats at you. Rots, you know? Deep in your gut, makes ya sick. That feeling is real. All that pain, _real._ And everyone around you, they start to see it, because you can't hide it forever, it comes out, in one form or another, and it's the kinda thing that may destroy you when it does."

Lee swallows, leaning back against the chair, trying to uncoil all the muscles that tensed against Tool’s words.

It's like he knows. Like Tool can read there's something going on with him and it's...well it's fucking _terrifying._

"Course, that's just what I think," Tool chuckles and pats his knee, standing up. "I suggest you get some sleep, my brother."

"Heh, if I could sleep Tool, I wouldn't be here."

"Yeah, well..." Tool waves a hand, heads for the door. "You might want to try harder kid, you're gonna need it."

That comment doesn't register with Lee until well after Tool's left and he’s surrounded in silence.

What the hell did Tool mean by that? Need it for what? As far as he knew they had a few days off. That meant he had plenty of time to try and get his head on straight.

And all that stuff earlier, bottling it up, that was another thing that came from nowhere. Tool and his fucking _nonsense._

But it did bother Lee, a little. And the more he tried to pretend like Tool was just being Tool and saying weird shit the more he started replaying the conversation over in his mind, thinking there may have been a knowing look to Tool's eyes, a kind of _nudge, nudge, wink, wink,_ type deal. And if that were true then he could only be talking about Barney.

Lee's got plenty of shit wrong with him but Barney is the only thing that twists him up inside like this. Leaving him floundering. And if Tool knows then what if Barney knows? Is that what the look had meant on the plane?

And if Barney knows then....shit. He’s so _fucked._


	4. Chapter 4

Barney hovers, waiting. It just figures that he’d come for Tool and find Lee. Fucking Lee looking so....calm. And unburdened. Amazing what a little sleep could do.

He swallows, wondering how long he could get away with this. Just watching. Taking it in. Lee might freak on him when he wakes up, Barney would do the same if he caught someone watching him sleep. Or if he caught someone _else_ watching Lee. 

Lee shifts and Barney’s holds his breath, _please, just let me have this, just this one thing,_ and Lee sinks lower in the chair, chin dipping below the blanket that Barney imagines is Tool’s doing. There’s a brief shudder, Lee’s brows knitting together and Barney moves without thinking, reaching out and brushing his fingers against those creases, willing them away. Lee settles back down and Barney carefully sits next to him. Small smile forcing its way onto his lips.

He’s reached a whole new level of weird. He knows it. Even if part of his brain is telling him how it’s just like when they’re on missions and they’d all watch the others sleep on their shifts awake, just to make sure everyone was okay. It’s so not. Because Lee isn't in danger of anything.

But Barney is.

“That’s the best he’s slept all night,” Tool murmurs from somewhere behind him and Barney nearly jumps. 

“Jesus, Tool.” He whispers it to the sound of Tool’s soft chuckles. And then Tool’s words catch up to him and he frowns, catching Tool’s eyes over the back of the sofa. “What do you mean?”

“He came here in the middle of the night Barney, I kept an eye on him. I lost count of how many times he jerked awake or slipped into some fucking nightmare. Boy’s got something on his mind.”

“Fucking bastards.” It had to be the fucks from the last mission. Really only yesterday. It was so hard to keep track of time. But they never really had a chance to talk, Barney had no idea what happened to Lee when he went off grid. Who knew what the fuckers did to him?

Tool hums, handing Barney a cigar. “Maybe you should hang around. He’s sleeping easier but he’ll probably be up soon.”

“How much has he really slept?” Barney twirls the cigar, wondering if he lit up now if the smell would wake Lee up or not. 

Tool let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Maybe two hours or so?” 

“Shit.”

“Someone should have been with him last night. Not that I mind, but shit Barney, what if I hadn’t been here? You’re lucky he didn’t fishtail on the bike on the way over. You even bother to check to make sure he was okay?”

Barney cringes at the thought of Lee crashing his bike. Cringes at the thought that he didn’t push to stay with Lee. But the man had been so eager to get away. _Away from him._ “He seemed...fine...Tool, I didn’t...”

Tool waves him off, hand dipping in a gesture toward Lee. The Brit’s shifting, waking up, and Barney takes those few seconds before full wakeness to stand up and slip back a few steps, give Lee his space. If he’s lucky, maybe the fact he’d been so close would go unnoticed.

If Tool hadn’t already pointed out how rough Lee was, this would’ve shown it, in painful clarity. Lee jerks up, stilling, and it takes a full second for the panic in his eyes to recede to restrained suspicion. And then those eyes focus on Barney and Tool and Barney swears he sees a flash of fear before it subsides, hiding beneath Lee’s usual morning grouchiness. 

“You guys here to serve me breakfast in bed or something?”

Tool laughs and Barney manages a strained smile, but he can’t do much else, not even when Lee seems to shrink in on himself, apologizing to Tool for crashing in his place and stiffly making his way out.

That’s what kicks him in to gear really, the fact that Lee’s leaving, uncomfortable, like he didn’t belong here. Barney chases him out, grabbing his arm in the parking lot and ignoring the way Lee winces. Shit. He forgot. Injuries, Barney, don't be such a stupid fuck. “Sorry. How you holding up?”

Lee shrugs, eyes screwing closed in another wince. “S’okay, I guess. Feels worse this morning.”

“Yeah...uh, look, where ya heading?”

Lee didn’t shrug this time, though Barney knows he wants to. His eyes are traveling all over the lot, refusing to look at Barney. 

It solidifies the doubt in his mind. Lee has found him out. That’s why he was being so weird. why he was so skittish, not wanting to be here. He should be leaving him alone, letting him g– “Look, uh, I’ll take ya home. If that’s where you’re headed.”

“I...nah, the place is a mess. Figured I’d...wander, for a bit.”

Well, if that wasn’t a brush off, he didn’t know what was. God, maybe they could just sit down and talk about it. This wasn't how he wanted Lee to find out, fuck he didn’t want Lee to _ever_ find out but he could fix this. Could somehow make it so his feelings wouldn’t fuck up their friendship, not _that_ much at least.

“...so it’s not really worth going there, you see. Figured I would just get a new place, go hotels or something.”

Barney blinks, he hadn’t realized Lee said anything—had been saying anything. He wasn’t even sure what they were talking about anymore. “What?”

Lee frowns, rolling his eyes. “Landlord’s not happy. Kicking me out. Going to hotel. You following me?”

“Sorry. Right. Uh...I was...” _Being too self-absorbed to listen to a fucking word you were saying._

“I’ll take you to my place. You can get some more sleep.”

He thought Lee would fight him, argue, at the very least ask why Barney thought he needed more sleep. Instead he just nods, nudging Barney to lead on towards the truck.


End file.
